The Plan

On a table in the room
The glasses stood tall, pale with gloom
To mingle with the music and the fumes

Drooping heads that memorise
Bloodshot stares in strangers eyes
Curses born of lovers paradise

Gliding through with practiced ease
Sailed across from fallen seas
She stole the crown he always said was his

Her touch was brash, her hunger cold
Her lips betrayed what her eyes told
A glimpse had made him feel senile and old

He learnt by heart her dire signs
Her thin long bones in a strange design
Her veins blue velvet rising up like vines

He searched out to the far far west
He searched up on the mountain crests
He searched till there were only bones to rest

Dust and ashes met the earth
He returned to his muddy hearth
Contorted face, she bursted out in mirth

Now he is on the other side
She would be his only bride
His every will and whim, she will abide

She waits for someone to steal her crown
She waits restless, manic frown
His plan was perfect, who first had penned it down